It was at this moment that he realized at long last that this was the end. Finally, this road; this maddening, winding, twisting road would reach its conclusion here and now. He looked around the new environment and found that, in actuality, there was no environment whatsoever. All that laid before him was darkness. Not darkness in the sense that it was just a dark room, but a blackness that was like a void. A blank spot. A place Alohiem seemed to forget at the creation of the universe.

He looked at his hands, arms and legs and could see himself clearly. It was more as if he were the only visible work of art on a sheet of paper painted black. No shadow, no light, no echo, nothing. A grave was not as silent as this. He pointed his blade in all directions, trying to get a glimpse of something; anything. Even the door he came in was gone, replaced by the endless black void.

Keeping his blade out, he walked towards some random direction and persisted onwards. He followed the long stretch of darkness as far as he could. The hallway didn’t seem so bad anymore. At least in there, he had something tangible to see. He could hear the creaking of floorboards, and smell the old paint on the walls as fresh as an old garbage heap, with a similar scent.

Here there was nothing: nothing to grab onto, nothing to hear, nothing to sense. Only the unnatural darkness that laid before him. And then, without any warning he found himself in a room. One moment he was in the void, the next moment after he blinked he was in a house. His eyes burned at the sudden appearance of bright lights. He was disoriented for a moment until his eyes adjusted. He found himself looking at the front door of a pristine house. It appeared to be spring. The sun was shining brightly and kissed Ulysses’s cheek with its warmth. The flowers were fresh and sweet. This small house was something that Ulysses had always dreamed of having. Something to have away from the war, misery and death that plagued Vanlandius for ages.

It was a quiet place. He brushed his fingers against the door to feel it before opening the door. He saw a young boy sitting down and reading a book. Ulysses knelt down and saw that the book was about dragons, going into great detail for a children's book. The large picture of the black dragon Vedmaarvith was prominent. It depicted a burning village where the Dragons scales and the black smoke blotted out the sun. It was an image all the folk of Vanlandius would be afraid to see in real life.

Dread consumed his heart. Ulysses knew exactly what the house was trying to do. It was trying to break him. Once again the house was trying to send him into madness, playing with him like a cat playing with a cornered mouse. He looked at the door and aired patiently for whatever would come through it. He stared at the window, knowing that the crossbow bolt would come at some point and ruin this happy image of a family free from the troubles of the world.

He hung his head low. His fist tightened into a ball as he waited for the inevitable. Sure enough, the front door opened with a loud crash, and a double of Ulysses came in brandishing a sword and crossbow with murder in his eyes. This disheveled, pathetic excuse for a human is how he saw himself the day courage left him, and fear took its place. He was a far more dangerous thing that day than any dragon in the child’s book.

Time slowed down for Ulysses as he saw his wicked shadow raise his sword in the air and prepare to strike down at the pair: the mother having fled to protect the child. Ulysses knew that he would do this over and over again. He would see himself be the murderer of the innocents, just as he always had after that day. His own carved out section of Hell built solely for him to be punished for all of time. The house would feed off of Ulysses’s fear forever more.

Yet, something snapped within Ulysses. A thread had been cut that, once cut, could never be mended. The straw that broke the camel's back. The non stop repetition of that day's events running over and over and over again. At that moment, fear had left Ulysses and was replaced by anger.

Ulysses drew his sword with lightning speed and blocked his shadow’s strike. The shadow turned to look at Ulysses with shock and awe as the family house quickly lit up in a blaze. The walls crumbled into char and ash, revealing the hellish landscape that surrounded them.

“...No.”

Ulysses stood without fear, but determination. He glared at his double, who’s eyes widened with surprise. The double backed away as Ulysses stood proudly.

“No more…”

He brandished his blade, pointing it at the double and glaring hateful daggers into the shadow.

“Whatever this is, it ends now. I will not fall to you so easily. If you want me, you’ll have to fight me! Today, I will either triumph or I will fall!”

He took a defensive position and gritted his teeth at the foul shadow.

“Whatever you are, whatever black pit you crawled out from, I curse you! I let fear consume me before, and it has haunted me nonstop. Now? Now all fear has left me. Now, my only wish is to see your end!”

Angrily, the shadow hisses at Ulysses, the initial shock of being defied long worn off. There would be no more talking. Both charged at each other.

“Hrrrugghhh!!!”

Ulysses let out a battle cry as he swung his sword, clashing his blade with the shadow, sparks flying from them as if struck by a blacksmith's hammer. Ulysses knocked the shadow back with his shoulder, sending the creature tumbling back against a burning wooden beam. He swung at the shadow, only to have the double dodge at the last moment, and swing its sword at him.

The Hellish environment roared around them in their duel, deafened by the fire and the screaming of men in battle beyond this dueling ring. Every strike was expertly done, The double and Ulysses were evenly matched. The shadow kicked ash into Ulysses’s face, temporarily blinding him. Ulysses tried to defend himself, but was cut in the arm by a well placed strike. He winced in pain as he reeled back, grabbing his arm as the shadow struck again, Ulysses barely able to defend himself in the nick of time.

The shadow grinned as it swung the blade in full force across, Ulysses jumping back away, the blade managing to cut cleanly through his armor. He blinked and saw the shadow licking its blade. It let out a yell before it tried to stab at Ulysses, only for him to dodge out of the way and strike at the shadows back. The shadow hissed loudly and turned to glare at him, its eyes glowing red like embers. It walked around. A twirl of its blade, and suddenly it had transformed.

It took on the appearance of a human man. His eyes were glowing gray this time, cold and ruthless. Ulysses knew the face the shadow used all too well. It was the grand marshal, none other than the Hammer of Sigurdsehre himself. Markus Harringoth. The shadow looked like the famous grand marshal, yet had a black and smokey aura around him. Ulysses would normally be terrified of seeing Markus here, yet he knew this was just another of the house’s lies.

The shadow spoke. His voice was like the hissing of smoke and the crackling of burning wood.

“You will always be a coward, Ulysses. What you do now doesn’t change what has happened.”

The figure that was Markus swung his blade. In the clash of swords, the shadow changed itself again as quickly as the blink of an eye. It now assumed the form of the woman who he killed so long ago.

“You will always scurry away like a cockroach, hiding from the light. There's no changing you.”

Ulysses growled loudly and pushed the shadow away and swung at her.

“I will not be ruled by fear. Not anymore.”

The shadow growled. Another swipe and it turned into Illyana, still with a fresh hole in her torso.

“You let Illyana die for you. Everyone sacrifices something for you.”

It changed into Tabitha, and Ulysses hesitated for a moment. The thing spoke again in a raspy voice that mocked Tabitha.

“This whore sacrifices her dreams while you waste away. You hate yourself to the point where it is infectious. You promise her so many things, yet you never deliver.”

Ulysses gritted his teeth and breathed heavily as he swung at the creature.

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“Be silent!”

The loud, reverberating clang of metal hitting metal echoed as the mockery of Tabitha giggled with the hiss of a cockroach.

“She would be better off if you died here.”

Ulysses screamed as he pulled his sword back and readied himself to thrust.

“Enough!!!”

He stuck the profane image of Tabitha right in the heart. Its skin began to crack and shatter like glass. They expanded - impossibly so - along the ground and the sky, the entire world as if a child threw a stone and had cracked the very window of reality itself. What new fresh hell was next, Ulysses thought to himself.

It was here that he found himself in a truly alien realm. It was a vast, gray desert filled with a miasma that blanketed much of the horizon. What Ulysses could see through the fog was disheartening. A long, flat void with white sandstone like ground. Turning around, he saw that there were endless stretches of desert that went on for eternity, broken up occasionally by colossal ebony black obelisks of obsidian.

The towers in the distance were impossibly large, stretching far beyond the sky and into the inky black void beyond…wherever it was he found himself. With no choice, he stepped forward, journeying to one of the nearest spires. He didn’t know how long he would travel. Every step felt like a year passing him. Yet he never noticed the sun moving. In fact, he realized that there was no sun, yet the desert was as bright as if it were high noon.

That’s when he began to learn other things about that place. Every step should make some echo, yet there was only the flat sound of his foot hitting sand. He looked high and low, and against his better judgment, he called out for someone.

“Hello?!”

He expected an Echo, yet there was nothing. No sound other than his own footsteps and voice. He felt his throat tighten up, uncertain as to what laid before him. He learned that there was an absence of something in this place. Something that alarmed him further was that there was no heat or cold. Just a dull sense. Something missing, as if this were a blank sheet of paper that had yet to have anything written upon it.

He pressed on until he finally found himself in front of one of the spires. He looked upon it with awe and fear. The pure size of this one Spire was to him as He must appear to an ant. This place was unnatural, and served only to insult his very existence in some incomprehensible way.

He went to face the spire and would feel all along its walls to try to enter it somehow, looking for a door. The moment he touched it, his finger stuck to it. He pulled away and found that the spire - despite being made out of obsidian like material- was soft like oil. He grimaced and forced his entire hand inside. He held his breath and pressed forward, walking deeper into the spire until he vanished.

Once he reached the otherside, he found himself in a grand chamber that felt as if it had been carved by termites, and everything that entailed. Huge walls that were carved from rock, saliva, dung and other things that should smell foul, yet there was an absence of smell, just as there was outside.

There were many tunnels within this place, each completely visible despite no fires. No light, no darkness. The complete absence of either. He pressed on, not knowing which direction was correct, yet having no choice as to where to move. His journey was as long as it was in the desert if not longer. This one tunnel seemed to be longer than the outside world was, yet he couldn’t know that for sure, could he?

He would come to a smaller obelisk in the middle of a large chamber. When he did, he heard muttering, as if someone was talking. He went around to the other side of the obsidian spire and looked on with horror. There was a man fused to the black stone, or at least it used to be a man.

The figure was deformed in multiple places. One leg jutted out of the side of the spire. It was gnarled and twisted, either having been broken or somehow gaining multiple joints. One of the arms was much the same, save for it sprouting from a different side of the obelisk, and longer than the other arm. It snaked around and joined the other arm in a prayer motion. The thing's face was contorted. A Scraggly beard ever so barely clung to the man's face, dangling off of the loose skin. The jaw seemed to have been broken in two, and his face split horizontally. Both sides moved as if mandibles were chewing.

This sad, pathetic creature spoke the same thing again and again and again, reciting something nonstop.

Seven lords adorned with fated crowns.

Seven seals that bind us down.

It is in his nature, he can not resist.

The lord of the clan shall awaken the mist.

Pride comes before the fall.

The lord of calamity shall lose it all.

The lord of silence has no voice.

When the lord sings, we shall rejoice.

The lord of Lions shall be named king.

Death's praises he shall sing.

The Horned Lord is no mere fable.

Upon his third death, he shall sit at our table.

The lord of masks wears many faces, but can’t remember his own.

When he does, He shall return to his throne.

Many deaths suffered him, the lord of decay.

Upon his final death, he shall open the way.

Seven seals shall break. The world turns in our direction.

Rejoice, for soon comes the hour of perfection.

Ulysses stared at the figure as it repeated this mantra incessantly. He tried to make sense of it all when he noticed something. Some small fabric of clothing, tattered as it still remained. Ulysses knelt down and picked up some cloth that had fallen to the floor at the base of the creature’s monolith. It had a faded inscription. The letter H embroidered upon the cloth.

“H? …Hawthorn…”

He looked upon what was left of Isaiah Hawthorn. Was this the reward that Isaiah had received after bringing this evil upon the town? He shivered and dropped the cloth on the ground. What cruel devilry orchestrated this? It was incomprehensible to Ulysses. What could he possibly do now that he was here? The crushing reality of the situation dawned on him. He was effectively in a type of hell. Yet this was not the Seven Hells which he had heard of. There was nothing that was even a glimmer of what the stories said: no lakes of fire, fire demons torturing you, no screams of unending agony. This was not hell and it most assuredly was not the high heavens… What was this place then? Was this some place between?

He chose another tunnel and ventured deeper into it. The journey took him even longer this time, yet he did not hunger or thirst. There was the absence of hunger. He was not full, but neither was he starving. Just a simple lack of anything.

Finally, he finds himself once again in a black void as was in the house itself. He peered through the darkness, trying desperately to find something. Yet when he approached, he heard something to his side. He whirled rapidly to look, only to find nothing. He drew his sword, ready to strike at anything from the darkness. There they were again, the chattering sounds, the clacking of mandibles, the insect humming from the darkness, he whirled again, only to find the same thing that greeted him before. The deafening silence of the void.

The noiselessness of the area made his heart quiver. It was so quiet, he swore he could hear his own heart beating. His eyes cut to his side as he felt a presence behind him. He turned and stabbed, thrusting his blade into something solid. What he had stabbed was monstrous in size. The fluid that leaked from the wound had an odor, The first odor that he was able to smell since he arrived in this godless place.

It was a pungent smell that made Ulysses want to vomit. He shook his head and Coughed before he looked up at the abomination that faced him. He pulled his sword out and saw the titanic form of the creature in front of him. It looked as if it were a misshapen mantis that was bloated with eggs. The viscous liquid poured from its wound had the consistency of sludge. The smell of rot and bile filled Ulysses’s lungs. The multi armed creature had vaguely humanoid skin, armored in thick chitin. It had numerous eyes like a spider, and several tendrils with mouths at the end of each tip that opened up like pedals of a flower.

Ulysses would almost go mad at the sight of this impossible creature. He huffed loudly, eyes widening at the pure size of it. In that moment, he let out a loud, terrified scream. The abominable titan outstretched its many arms and raised its head up as if it were a God, and Ulysses had come to worship it.

He thought about Tabitha at that moment… He gripped his sword tightly and plunged his sword into the beast, catching the thing off guard. He cut open the thing, and sent the creature's guts spilling out of it. It let out multi voiced screams all of which sounded eerily human. He climbed up the creature, stabbing all the way upwards. It tried to swipe at him, but it was about as easy as a man trying to find a flea on his body.

He went up to the creature's chest and plunged his blade into its chest. It let out a violent scream as Ulysses continued to stab again and again and again.

The beast wailed loudly as he stabbed it. He tried to thrust his blade into it one last time, but slipped. The sword fell out with him and he screamed loudly, falling down into the blackness below.

He felt something under him that was quite different from the hard sandstone and chitin that built up the hellish realm. He opened his eyes and saw a color he almost forgot about. Green. Beautiful green grass under him. He pushed himself up and looked at the grass. He began to chuckle like a mad man, pulling out bits of grass and rubbing them on his face, laughing heartily. Tears welled up in his eyes before he crumpled down on the ground and sobbed. He saw that there was a glow coming from behind him. He turned and saw the most beautiful thing he could ever hope for in that moment. Hawthorn House burning brightly in a great funeral pyre. He stood up and saw the house was engulfed in the bright orange glare. The entire town had stepped outside and watched the fire blaze on into the night, acting as if a second sunset.

He limped over to the house and laughed at it, most of the townsfolk surprised to see him living and breathing. He laughed as if he had lost his mind. He did it… he actually did it. He killed Hawthorn house! He knelt down and started to sob again. It cost him so much, but at long last the deed was done. The town was free.